


Garden of Light and Darkness

by ArdeaJestin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mutual Pining, Skywalker Family Drama, The Force Ships It, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdeaJestin/pseuds/ArdeaJestin
Summary: When Lord Mellowyn of Birren dies without an heir, the governorship passes on to his closest relative, Leia Organa. Yet she decides to cede it to her own son instead, in the hopes that it will give him the political acumen he so desperately needs. Determined to prove himself and bring young blood to the tranquil, aging planet, Ben Solo recruits members for his new guard on Jakku, where his father fell in battle years before...





	Garden of Light and Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incognitajones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/gifts).



> Merry Christmas! IncognitaJones enjoys Star Wars canon divergence, Rey kicking Ben's ass, pining, and the Force being a Reylo shipper, so I tried to go with all of it :) The result was this ginormous fic filled with stuff I found on Wookiepedia (the Birren/First Senator plotline is actually pre-TFA and canonical) and completed by my own imagination. I am by no means a SW canon expert, but I did my best to make it coherent. I hope you like this!

The envoys come at dusk to Niima Outpost.

 

Rey has just obtained her rations for the evening when she spots two strangers advancing from the horizon line – humans, from the looks of it, tall and lithe. There are grunts of surprise and mocking guffaws as the intruders come forward, oblivious both to the rivulets of sand the wind has started to pick up and to the glaring fact that they don’t belong here.

 

First of all, no one ever comes willingly to the Outpost: they just land there somehow after several strokes of bad luck, mostly of their own making. Secondly, no one ever comes dressed like _that_. Rey holds her quarterstaff tighter and squints her eyes against the last rays of sunshine; she’s never seen such wealth on display, gleaming in plain sight. Robes of the finest cotton dyed in russet hues, golden belts and breast plates, and weapons with a sheen of newness that has always been like a faraway dream, here on Jakku.

 

Who are these people, and what could possibly bring them here, of all places, a junkyard on a dusty planet of the Inner Rim?

 

Everyone watches, transfixed, as they enter the outpost, set a small machine on the ground, then stand in silence. A moment later, the blue hologram of another man in rich garb appears.

 

“Greetings to our sister planet of the Inner Rim,” he says in Basic Galactic. “I am Jix Quamar, councilor to Lord Solo, the newly anointed supreme governor of Birren. We come to extend the hand of friendship to Jakku, in the hopes that the worlds of the Inner Rim can work together for commerce, prosperity and order.”

 

Rey leans on her staff and smirks. That kind of language will get them nowhere with these denizens, who despise order and have no regard for anything that isn’t there for them to grab and weigh in the palm of their hand. Despite her curiosity, she’s about to turn around and head towards her shelter when the hologram crackles on.

 

“We are looking for young, able-bodied volunteers to join the guard of Lord Solo and uphold peace in the vicinity of Birren, for the benefit of all. Our recruiters will gladly consider any applicant who would seek to be granted this honor.”

 

Another rumor goes through the crowd, one that is far less mocking and far more suspicious. Lord Solo, despite his fancy name, sounds like he’s hunting for mercenaries on other planets. But now Rey is interested. She cares nothing for honor, but she cares about the chance not to depend on Unkar Plutt for her next meal.

 

The hologram vanishes, and one of the envoys goes to pick it up, glancing around at the people who have just heard it and obviously deciding no one is worth a second look. These men are only doing their duty, and will not wait until the sun is down to leave again.

 

Rey has a split second to decide. As soon as they start back towards the desert, she runs after them.

 

“Hey! Wait!”

 

They turn around, surprised. Rey tries not to look down as she stands before them, young, able-bodied and willing to do anything to get off this dry wasteland of a planet, even if it means pretending she believes their employer’s good intentions.

 

“I’d like to apply for the guard,” she tells them.

 

“What’s your name?” one of them asks.

 

“Rey.”

 

“And you’re willing to serve?”

 

Rey nods vigourously. “Yes, just… please tell me, is there any water on Birren?”

 

They both smile, but don’t answer her question.

 

#

 

At the same time every day, the setting sun of Birren is aligned with the rising moon. Ben has taken the habit of going up on the terraced roof of the Great Hall and watch them as they enter in perfect symmetry with each other.

 

He finds the sight oddly beautiful, though he supposes others might be more impressed with the vast amount of wealth at his disposal now. Not for him to plunder, of course; the Elder Houses wouldn’t allow it, and for all their courtesies they are not loathe to strip anyone of their title. But still, since he’s been crowned and anointed, the treasures of the Great Hall - the cloth of gold and the velvet tapestries, the chests full of coins and precious objects, diplomatic gifts from a more prosperous time – all of this is his to keepsake and spend how he sees fit.

 

 _Supreme governor. Lord Solo._ That’s what they call him now. Ben leans on the bannister of carved stone and looks beyond to the blood-red horizon. A part of him feels pride at his title, a pride that buoys his ambition when he thinks what he could make of it. Another part whispers to him that he’s nothing but a foolish boy in exile, placed on an empty throne to keep out of trouble.

 

“For goodness’s sake, Ben, when will you get it through your head? That’s just not the way things are done,” his mother had told him.

 

It was after another very public dispute involving one of the slick, smooth-talking senators of Chandrila. Ben still feels the sting of shame rise to his cheeks when he thinks about it, but then he feels anger too – _legitimate_ anger, he believes, against the politicians of his homeworld who thrive on schemes.

 

“That deal was dishonest,” Ben replied stubbornly. “And Silthen knew it. It wasn’t what had been agreed on.”

 

Leia shook her head. “Haven’t all these years of shadowing me taught you anything? Deals are always _negotiations_ , and in politics you’d do well not to think anything is set in stone.”

 

“Forgive me for thinking that if anyone should be exemplary, it should be those who claim to rule our galaxy.”

 

“Sometimes I wonder why you refused to train with your uncle and become a Jedi. That sort of all-or-nothing philosophy is exactly what he thrives on.”

 

True, Ben was Force-sensitive, but then so was she, and all they had was each other. His father Han had died before he was even born, and he had never considered leaving his mother’s side. It was only natural now that he should follow into her footsteps.

 

“My darling, you know how much I love you, but it’s about time we parted,” Leia said, reading his thoughts. “If you stay on Chandrila, Silthen will try to have your hide, metaphorically speaking.”

 

“My hide, or yours?”

 

“I admit that I already have enough people willing to stab me in the back, and anything that can make my run for First Senator easier is welcome. Luckily for you, I’ve found a solution that ought to suit both of us.”

 

Lord Mellowyn, the previous governor of Birren, had just passed away. As the daughter of Bail Organa, Leia was next in line after the childless Mellowyn and had been offered the supreme governorship. The plan was to directly pass on the succession to her son, which would also allow her to be free to take up the position of First Senator, should she be elected.

 

“You’re keeping me away from where the real power lies,” he’d accused her. “You’re sending me out to the Inner Rim, thinking you can distract me with shiny toys while you campaign in Republic City.”

 

“A planet, no matter how small, is not a toy,” she snapped back.

 

“That title has become purely ceremonial, you said it yourself. How do I know the Elder Houses won’t refuse my authority?”

 

“It’s up to you to make them accept it. If you want to rule, you need to learn how to govern first.”

 

And here he is now, governing, or at least trying to. Birren is a vast expanses of silvery sand with no city to speak of, but the deep underground rivers spring up here and there, peppering the landscape with a network of lush green oases, each of them surrounded by a stone wall. It’s purely decorative, for the desert tribes are only interested in trade. Everything is decorative here, it seems.

 

But Ben will not let himself be distracted. And he knows it’s not a crown or a dab of sacred oil that makes a leader, but something else entirely.

 

#

 

They arrive at Reestkii the following morning in the envoys’ light ship. Rey has kept her mouth shut all the way. She’s afraid that if she asks questions, either she’ll change her mind, or they will.

 

The Birrenese have set up camp at the edge of town. Reestkii is larger than Niima Outpost, though not by much. In fact, it’s barely more than a scattering of earthen houses organized around the only well for miles and miles around, a few caravans coming and going, and some old speeders zipping by. The Birrenese ship, which is older than Rey would’ve expected given their wealth, stands out as much as its crew does against the miserable surroundings.

 

The envoys, who are six in total, are under the orders of a tall, bulky Alder-Espirion with reddish skin and yellow eyes. He looks over the rag-tag group that they’ve managed to recruit around Jakku: no more than thirty individuals, with, unsurprisingly, a majority of Kyuzo, a handful of humans and two or three Uthuthma.

 

“I’m Maxon Ruana,” the Alder-Espirion booms when they’re assembled in front of him. “I bet you lot are wondering why you’re here. You’re here because you were smart enough to seize the chance to make something of yourselves. And if you’re just in it for the money, you can leave right now, because until you prove your valor food and lodging will be your only pay. Lord Solo isn’t looking for bounty hunters or mercenaries, but for fighters.”

 

The Uthuthma and two humans leave. Maxon Ruana seems satisfied with this.

 

“Better to weed out those who are weak of mind and heart right away,” he says. “As for the rest of you, congratulations, you’ve passed the first test. Now show me what you got.”

 

They are paired up and asked to spar with melee weapons. Years of having to fend for herself have honed Rey into an expert in defense, countering every move, and her first three sparing partners exhaust themselves trying to touch her. Only the fourth, a fierce-looking Kyuzo with emerald skin, manages to knock her roughly to the ground. Ruana watches them, impassive, his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest.

 

“Let’s see how you do with blasters,” he announces after a while.

 

Rey’s footing there is less assured. She’s fired a blaster before, but she’s not sure she knows how to aim. She manages, though, better than she thought she would. She seems to have a natural instinct for sending the shot where it needs to go.

 

Other exercises follow while the blazing sun beats down on them. At the end of the day, Rey is parched, aching, and more exhausted than she’s been in a long time. Ruana offers them food and they sit in a circle to eat. By chance, he sits down not far from her, and chews in silence while the envoys talk among themselves.

 

“Excuse me, but can I ask you a question?” Rey says when she’s done emptying her water gourd.

 

“Sure, kid,” Ruana grunts.

 

“Who is this Lord Solo? The supreme governor?”

 

“He’s the son of Han Solo and Senator Leia Organa.”

 

“You mean, Han Solo, the hero of the Alliance who died in the Battle of Jakku?”

 

“The same one.”

 

Rey blinks. Of course. Why didn’t she connect the dots sooner? Solo isn’t that common a name. But then Lord Solo must not be much older than she is. She was picturing him as a dour, gray-haired man and now… now she doesn’t know how to picture him.

 

“Is that why he’s recruiting on Jakku? Because his father died here?”

 

“You can ask him when he comes,” Ruana replies with a smirk before turning back to his bowl.

 

#

 

“Would you be in need of my assistance on your trip, my lord?”

 

Ben adjusts his tunic and slips on a coat of light cotton. The councilors and members of the Elder Houses favor reds and golds, but he rather likes the dark indigo dyes of the desert people.

 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he replies, glancing at Jix in the mirror. “I’d rather you stay here and attend to anyone who presents themselves at the Great Hall. It’s your job as councilor, isn’t it?”

 

“As you wish, my lord,” Jix replies, trying to hide his relief.

 

Ben feels no resentment towards him. In fact, all things considered, it could have turned out a lot worse. The members of the Elder Houses were not expecting him to do anything else than sit on the throne and be satisfied with it, but according to the ancient laws of Birren, the supreme governor has some measure of power when it comes to exterior trade and diplomatic relations. Not that there’s much to export; Birren has few exploitable mineral resources and is mostly populated with prosperous farmers and craftsmen. They are at peace and have been for decades, staying out of wars, probably because they wish to avoid the fate of their Alderaanians ancestors.

 

Yet something troubles Ben. According to the last census, which was done just before Lord Mellowyn died, the population is aging. Young people go searching for opportunities on other planets, and those who do stay more often than not remain childless; the very peculiar familial structures of the Birrenese make it easier to adopt than to have a child of your own, and since there are less war orphans than before, birth rates have been plunging with no one to stop them. It’s like the entire planet has fallen into a deep sleep it doesn’t want to wake up from.

 

It’s Ben’s duty to figure out how to attract migrants to Birren, revitalize its culture, restore it to its former glory. And Jix Quamar has been surprisingly supportive of this. What matter if the councilor likes his comfort and won’t travel to Jakku, as long as he understands why Ben must go there?

 

“A desert planet with no centralized government, a sizable Kyuzo population and humans used to a hot, dry climate,” he told him before sending out envoys. “I couldn’t dream of a better place to recruit for my guard.”

 

“But won’t representatives from foreign planets think it hostile to have an armed guard in the Great Hall?” Jix asked. “Lord Mellowyn seemed to be fine with the armored droids.”

 

“These droids are old. Let them patrol the desert. It’s important to show visitors our strength, and make them understand we’re not to be taken lightly.”

 

This seemed to make its mark. Now Ben is anxious to see what kind of fighters Maxon Ruana, his master of arms, has found in Jakku.

 

He insists on taking his own ship, not one of the handsome but heavy ships of the Birrenese fleet – something else he’ll have to change in time – as much for convenience as for the simple pleasure of flying. His uncle, his namesake and his father were all excellent pilots, he’d been told. Not that it kept his father from getting killed when his ship was hit and crashed in the desert.

 

As he makes the jump to light speed, a queer, disquieting feeling roils in his stomach. Is it really only because he thinks the populations of Jakku are suitable for fighting that he’s coming here? Is it a way to see with his own eyes what drew Han Solo to combat, going where his pregnant wife couldn’t follow him? Or is it something else entirely? He senses a pull he can’t explain, an intuition that his fate is somehow bringing him here.

 

Yet when he lands near Reetskii, it looks like the sort of town fate has altogether forgotten.

 

“How many are you training?” he asks Ruana as they’re making their way to the makeshift practice yard he’s set up.

 

“Twenty-one,” Ruana replies. “Eighteen Kyuzo and three humans.”

 

Ben is nonplussed. He was expecting a majority of Kyuzo but not quite so few humans. In spite of their infamous skill, he’d like to have a personal guard not entirely made up Kyuzo warriors; some of the more patronizing leaders of the Core might write him off as a slum lord more than a legitimate ruler.

 

“Are they any good?”

 

“They’ll serve.”

 

“What about for a personal escort?”

 

Ruana twists his mouth. “I think there might be suitable candidates.”

 

A gust of wind picks up dirt off the ground. Ben pushes his tunic back up his shoulders and squints.

 

In the middle of the courtyard, there is a girl with a staff.

 

#

 

When Rey retires to her kip for the night, she passes by the group of Kyuzo who are sitting in silence around a fire and gives a little wave towards Theemo. He’s the only one whose name she dared ask for, because he’s the only one who manages to best her when they fight. Theemo nods in reply; they don’t have any language in common, and she knows little about Kyuzo culture, but she can tell it’s a singular sign of respect.

 

They sleep outside, in the vicinity of the Birrenese ship, and usually when Rey lies down for the night, she falls asleep immediately. Tonight, though, she finds herself looking up at the stars, her mind drifting to what happened that afternoon.

 

She was just repeating some moves with her staff when she noticed Ruana looking at her, and he wasn’t alone.

 

 _Lord Solo_. That could only be him. He was tall, broad of shoulder, with jet-black hair and a deep, intense gaze, and was wearing clothes that seemed almost modest compared to the other Birrenese. But in spite of the single gold pendant around his neck and his somber indigo tunic, his mien was more noble than any of them.

 

Rey had faltered a little, flustered by the way he was observing her. This was the first time she’d felt stripped bare by a stranger’s gaze.

 

“Rey,” Ruana called her. “Grab a blaster.”

 

She’d nodded, thankful for the distraction. Ruana had thrown a few clay marks up the air and with a considerable effort in concentration, she’d managed to hit every single one.

 

“Right. That’s all for today. Go get some food.”

 

Then they’d turned away and gone to see the Kyuzo who were practicing a little further away. Was Ruana testing her? Showing Lord Solo what they’d achieved? Was Lord Solo satisfied? For some reason, it bothers her to think he might not. It bothers her a great deal more than it should, considering she’s never seen him before, and didn’t even know he existed until a few days ago.

 

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, opens them again. She’s had a great deal more to fret about in her life than this. There’s no way to go but forward now, and up to the stars.

 

The next morning, Ruana announces they’re leaving Jakku. Lord Solo has generously offered that they finish their training in Birren.

 

“Rey. Theemo.” He motions to them while everyone is packing. “The supreme governor has selected you for his personal escort. Take pride in your accomplishment and be worthy of this immense honor.”

 

Rey swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “What are we supposed to do, exactly?”

 

“You can start by flying to Birren on his ship. From now on, everywhere Lord Solo goes, you follow.”

 

#

 

Ben glances over his shoulder at the Kyuzo and the girl, who are sitting behind him in the cockpit. Theemo is an excellent choice – quiet, lightening fast, with the wiry strength and immovable balance so particular to his species.

 

Rey isn’t an excellent choice. In fact, she’s not a choice at all. As soon as Ben sees her, he feels she has been put on this planet for no other reason than for him to find her.

 

This girl, whoever she is, is Force-sensitive. So much so that it came off her in waves when she was practicing. Ruana can’t know this, of course. Like most people in the galaxy, he thinks it’s nothing but an old legend.

 

“She has remarkable instincts and she’s made impressive progress in just a few short days,” Ruana told him after he made her shoot at clay marks. “I know she doesn’t look like much, but -”

 

“No need to convince me,” Ben replied simply, though his heart was thudding in his chest. “This just might be an incredible stroke of luck.”

 

There’s no such things as incredible luck, of course, especially where the Force is concerned. But Ben isn’t about to let Ruana in on his family’s best-kept secret.

 

“Have you always lived on Jakku?” he asks them.

 

Theemo shakes his head and grunts. Rey hesitates a moment before answering.

 

“No, my lord.”

 

“Really? Where were you born?”

 

She bites her lip. “I’m not sure, my lord.”

 

This intrigues him, but he doesn’t press her. “What were you doing at Niima Outpost, then?”

 

“I was a scavenger.”

 

Yes. She has the frame for it, thin and supple, and the sand-colored clothes to blend in. His eyes linger on her a moment too long and he turns back his dashboard.

 

“Birren is a desert too,” he says, “but there’s nothing to scavenge.”

 

“They told me there was water,” she replies.

 

She sounds almost disappointed, and he would be almost amused if the image of her shooting four straight marks in a row, right down the middle, didn’t keep playing in his head. “There is, don’t worry. There are many oases. In fact, the Great Hall is in the middle of one.”

 

Rey is silent for a moment. “Thank you, my lord.”

 

He’s not sure what he should be thanked for, but he takes it anyway, and it blooms in his chest like a warm flame.

 

#

 

What a strange thing it is to realize how tiny you are, Rey thinks the first time she steps into the gardens. What a wonderful and terrifying feeling, to know that the universe holds such wonders and that you may only see a fragment of it in your short life.

 

The Great Hall of Birren is a fortress towering over a silver desert, but in its center it holds the most beautiful sight Rey has ever laid eyes on. An acre of lush green grass that grows past her knee, trees with ripe fruit of every shape and color, fragrant ferns that sway gently in the breeze. There’s even a large, crystalline pool, alive with tiny fluorescent creatures and opalescent flowers that bloom on the surface of the water.

 

As soon as she sets foot there, she decides she never wants to leave this place. And if Lord Solo didn’t insist that she and Theemo sleep in small cells on either side of his chambers instead of above the armory like the other guards, she might have very well set up camp in the grass.

 

_Everywhere Lord Solo goes, you follow_ , Ruana told them, and Rey obeys  diligently , from morning to night.  Lord Solo keeps a strict schedule, every minute accounted for. He pours over treaties and law books, lays out every decision thoroughly and in detail to  Jix Quamar, receives members of the Elder Houses, heads of Birrenese merchant guilds or outerworld industries, though not as many, she suspects, as he would like.

 

He's not the type of man as ease with entertaining guests and leaves the mandatory flattery to his councilor, but he takes satisfaction in signs of deference. He likes it when Rey and Theemo are on either side of him, solemn and dignified, their beige uniforms freshly pressed, a living, breathing showcase of devotion. Without knowing how, for he doesn't talk to her except when he gives her orders, she senses there's a wound there, a terrible need to reassure himself with order and hierarchy. He won't stand for impertinence or treachery. The strict, impassible demeanor could snap, break open into a rage at the slightest provocation, like wind blowing on a layer of cold cinder to reveal blazing hot coals underneath.

 

There are whispers from the servants in the Great Hall. The Birrenese say that when someone is born after their father dies, that person has special powers, not all of them good. Rey isn’t superstitious, and yet there’s something about him that unnerves her and thrills her at the same time.

 

She sees it when he fights.

 

“Spar with me,” he tells them in the late afternoon, when the heat is less stifling and he’s had enough of burying his nose in parchments. He’s on edge, teeming with energy he struggles to contain, and it erupts when they’re in the gymnasium.

 

It’s a vast marble hall, white and bare. On the outer wall, there’s an arch leading out in the gardens, and steps descending into the pool. Rey thinks it must have built for an army, but now it’s just the three of them. Lord Solo wrestles with Theemo, exercising brute strength and bare muscle while she watches, trying not to mind that he should expose his chest in front of her, trying not to notice too much that he does. Then he asks Rey to bring them blunt weapons. It’s time to parry, to feign, to balance and shift.

 

When they do, Rey forgets where she is. She forgets she’s just a scavenger from Jakku. She forgets everything as they dance around each other and the sweat runs down her skin. Or almost. She can’t forget him. And he beats her every time.

 

“You’re still holding back,” he tells her that afternoon while they catch their breath. “Don’t hold back, you’re not doing me any favors.”

 

“I’m sorry, my lord, I -”

 

“That’s it. When we’re sparring, you’re to call me Ben. Understood?”

 

“Yes, my – Yes, Ben.”

 

“So we’re going to start again, Rey, and you’re going to treat me the way you treated the scum back at Niima Outpost.”

 

“I promise I’ll try,” she says with a grin.

 

She shakes her muscles loose and relaxes her mind into forthright intent, then looks at him, forcing herself not see the supreme governor, but Ben. Ben Solo. If they’d met in other circumstances, they might have been friends, or they might have been rivals, out to best one another. And she wants to be the best.

 

They start again, and this time Ben has a much harder time keeping her at bay. She fights so hard a rugged cry escapes her lips and finally, _finally_ , she perceives a crack in his defense, a sliver of hesitation that allows her to throw him off-balance. Ben falls to the floor and she lays the blunt weapon on his neck.

 

“Well played, Rey,” he says with half a smile.

 

“You too, Ben.”

 

She drops the weapon and stretches out her hand for him to take.

 

When their palms touch, the world dissolves around her.

 

#

 

It happens so quickly Ben doesn't even have time for _how_ and _why_. One moment Rey is standing over him, flushed with effort and triumphant - _beautiful_ , he thinks, but quickly brushes the realization away.

  
The next their hands are touching, and he is immersed in memories that aren't his.

  
He sees a small, crying girl, watching a ship disappear into the sky. He feels pain, loneliness, abandonment, but under it a glint of hope, like a freshwater pearl formed around a tiny grain of sand.

  
He sees green. Miles and miles of it, wild and buoyant, like the gardens of the Great Hall unbound by walls.

  
He sees her, walking in the midst of it. She turns around and looks at him, and it's her turn to see.

  
_Looking up at the sky, for a ship he never saw and that will never return._

_  
His mother's embrace._

_  
A black mask, retrieved on a pyre and hidden from all._

_  
Skywalker._

  
He pulls back his hand as if he's been scalded.

  
"Ben!" Rey gasps.

  
"Do not address me this way," he snarls. "Leave. That's an order."

  
She backs away immediately, hurt and confusion plain on her face, and leaves the gymnasium. When Ben heads to his chambers after dressing himself, he tells Theemo that no one is to bother him under any pretext.

  
That's where he is still, hours later. The time for dining has come and gone, the time for sleeping is dragging past. Ben can't rest. He stalks around the beautiful tiled floor like an animal, furious with himself for letting his guard down, especially after what his mother asked of him.

 

“After the coronation, and after I’m gone, there's something I need you to do,” she’d told him before they left for Birren. “Something you mustn't speak of to anyone.”

  
She spoke with an urgency that was uncharacteristic for her. The pressure of the campaign for First Senator was starting to get to her. Or maybe he was just slowly realizing that his mother wasn't untouchable, or indeed immortal.

  
“As supreme governor, you'll have access to the treasure room of the Great Hall,” she continued. “If you find anything left behind for me by my father Bail, destroy it immediately.”

  
“Why?” he asked, confused. “Why not just leave it there, if no one else can access the treasure?”

  
“Because it may contain some things people would be ready to kill for.”

  
When he'd found a box engraved with his mother's name and listened to the message Bail Organa had recorded for her decades earlier, he understood why Leia wanted it destroyed.

 

_My dear daughter, light of my life, I have never had anything else in my heart for you but unconditional love and immeasurable pride. But this must not keep me from telling you the truth about your origins, the truth you have every right to know._

  
Ben remembered the shock it had been when he'd learned who his biological grandfather was. He must have been seven or eight and it was his mother's closest friend, Amilyn Holdo, who had insisted she tell Ben the truth. If she hadn't been there, with her blunt, unconventional ways, who knows how long Leia would've kept it from him. And if he didn’t get rid of this damning evidence, who knows who might use it against the soon-to-be First Senator.

  
Secrecy is the founding block of his entire bloodline, Ben tells himself, pulling the velvet curtains back and stepping out onto his balcony to watch the edge of the sky pale. Anakin Skywalker breaking his vows and marrying Padme Amidala. Their children, hidden in plain sight on either side of the galaxy. His uncle on a cryptic mission to restore the Jedi order. His father the smuggler. And now him, destroying the proof of their ties to Darth Vader in the dead of night, at his mother's bequest.

  
Ben's fingers squeeze the wrought-iron railing until his knuckles are white. They are a family of liars and thieves. They sulk in the shadows and take what they think should be theirs.

  
Down in the gardens, he spots Rey, sitting perfectly still at the pool's edge, staring into the water. He's noticed she likes to come there at dawn, before the sun is up.

 

He should send her away. He should replace her with someone else, and damn what people will say. It's too great a risk to keep her around, with the possibility that she'll figure out what it is she saw and compromise everything he’s working so hard to achieve.

  
But he can't. He knows he can't. Rey belongs here, with him. Close to him. The simple thought of her being far away is suddenly unbearable.

  
It's the Force, he reasons. The link It created is too strong to break. But as he watches Rey in the cold blue light of morning, he's not sure why his heart wrenches the way it does.

  
#  


He’s going to send her away.

 

Rey reaches out and brushes the tip of her fingers against the surface of the water, but its soothing coolness can’t erase what has haunted her throughout a sleepless night. She doesn’t understand what happened and how she could possibly read someone else’s thoughts. What was it she even saw? Memories? Dreams? And why was the mask of Darth Vader, the most ruthless tyrant in the history of the galaxy, so present in his mind?

 

She should be scared of what she saw. Scared of him, because the rumors might be true after all. But the only thing she’s afraid of right now is being told she has to leave. And why would Lord Solo keep her? He’ll think she’s some sort of seer, a spy with dangerous powers, and have her on a ship to Jakku by noon. She’ll have to go back to the dusty junkyard, far from the trees and the flowers and the lake. Far from him, which is somehow even worse.

 

If only she could explain that she didn’t do this on purpose, that she’s just as baffled as he is. If only she could touch his hand again, to see what happens.

 

This is a dangerous line of thinking. But when the day starts as it usually does and Lord Solo doesn’t dismiss her as she thought, it doesn’t go away. Her relief is only tenuous, for under it lies a deep, simmering yearning. Now when she stands by his side, she is acutely aware of their closeness, of how little it would take for her to reach out, feel the cloth of his tunic and his muscles beneath it.

 

Does he feel it too? He asks others to practice with them, and soon the gymnasium is filled with recruits of the guard and Maxon Ruana booming out advice and orders. It makes the marble gymnasium more alive and less intimidating, but it also means Rey no longer spars with Ben.

 

He’s only pretending to ignore her, though. As the days pass, she can feel the pull becoming stronger, like a cord being braided with another strand, then another. She only manages hold off because she is beholden to him – and how she hates it now, this obligation to be silent and still – but he can do as he pleases.

 

He need only reach out to take what he wants, like a fruit in one the trees of this garden of light and darkness, where Rey waits for each dawn. When he comes to find her there, she realizes she has also been waiting for him.

 

#

 

“Who are you?” Ben asks her.

 

Rey holds his gaze. He’s never met anyone who is so guileless, so unapologetic for everything she is. There isn’t a shred of calculation or duplicity in her. Maybe that’s why he’s being driven to this act of utter folly.

 

“I’m your loyal guard, my lord,” she replies.

 

“No. Not here. Who are you, Rey?”

 

“I’m a scavenger from Jakku.”

 

He walks to the water’s edge and sits down next to her. “Will you take my hand again?”

 

“Ben, I’m not sure...” She shakes her head. “Maybe we shouldn’t. Not if you’re going to act the way you did last time.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

He raises his hand, palm out. Finally, she presses hers against it, and their fingers intertwine. Ben closes his eyes and lets her enter his mind, forcing himself not to push back.

 

“Tell me what you see.”

 

“A little boy,” she says in a slightly trembling voice. “He’s looking out a glass bay. His mother… and a mask. A black mask.”

 

Ben swallows. “Go on.”

 

“I see… you. The supreme governor of Birren. You’re… standing on top of stone steps, overlooking a huge oasis… Not the Great Hall, somewhere else... There are people all around...”

 

Her fingers squeeze his hand and he can sense the energy draining out of her. He pulls his hand away and they both open their eyes.

 

“You saw the future,” he states. “I saw yours too.”

 

Rey frowns. “And the mask?”

 

Ben doesn’t reply. He won’t give that up without a fight, and now’s not the time for fighting, nor the place. Now he just wants to bask in the feeling of sitting so close to Rey, in the cool, lush tranquility of the grass. “I’ve never had this kind of connection with anyone before, not even my mother.”

 

“Really?” She runs her hand through the blades, a delicate gesture Ben finds at once unaffected and exquisite. “Who are you, Ben?”

 

“I’m the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa, the grandson of Bail Organa.”

 

They watch each other in silence. Finally, Rey’s lips curve into a little smile.

 

“That’s all right,” she says. “You’ll be back tomorrow, won’t you?”

 

“If you don’t mind.”

 

She tilts her head, almost teasing. “They’re your gardens.”

 

#

 

Theemo hasn’t learned much more Basic Galactic since they got here, but he and Rey have developed a sort of code in sign language. _Take a rest. I’ll fetch water._ _Council is starting._ _Lord Solo asked for you._

 

Lord Solo has asked for her. _Where?_ she signs. _Gymnasium_ , Theemo indicates, then insists. _Only you._

 

When Rey arrives in the marble hall, she doesn’t see him at first, then she realizes he’s bathing in the pool. When he spots her, he climbs the steps and dries himself with a cotton towel, though his slacks are still wet. Rey tenses and looks away pointedly. It’s much easier to keep her resolve when he’s clothed in his dark ample tunic.

 

“You called for me, my lord?”

 

 _The son of Han Solo and Leia Organa, the grandson of Bail Organa._ Lord Solo.

 

Every morning they meet and sit at the water’s edge, their hands intertwined, their foreheads almost touching. Every time he offers her nothing but the same answer. But that mask – Vader’s mask, it’s more than a memory. It’s part of who he is, and still he keeps himself just out of reach. She thought he trusted her, but she’s starting to think he’s only using her in a bid to see more of his future.

 

“Will you spar with me?”

 

“As you wish, my lord.”

 

He’s not satisfied with her reply, but it’s the only one she’ll cede him for now. They take the blunt weapons and start their usual forms, yet she remains reserved and accommodating, a pathetic sort of revenge for what he withholds from her.

  
“You're holding back again,” he berates her. “Don’t.”

 

“As you wish, my lord.”

 

“Stop it! What did I tell you to call me when we sparred?” Anger boils up inside of her, but still she barely defends herself when he attacks. He knocks his shoulder into hers, giving her a glimpse of his brute strength, and she winces. “Why are you holding back?”

 

“ _Why_?”

  
Fury finally breaks the dam, annihilating her thoughts so pure instinct can take over. She smashes her weapon against his with such violence that it visibly knocks the air out of him. She sees her chance and assails him, now seeking to hurt him, to wound him, and the rage in his gaze starts to match hers. But she's gone too far now. He has to retreat, and when his arm drops a little too low, she kicks him square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

  
The fury evaporates, and the pain it leaves behind is all the more raw. Rey watches Ben as he sits up, trying to catch his breath, his dark curls falling over his forehead. When he glances up at her, tears spring into her eyes.

  
“Do you really not know why?” she asks, and her voice is no more than a strangled whisper.

 

She turns away from him, blinking her tears back furiously. Suddenly he is standing behind her, and lays a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Rey…”

  
His voice is strangled now too. She knows what will happen if she looks at him, and feels a fool for even considering it. _Pride_ , one part of her mind tells her. Ridiculous, overblown pride, for he has everything, and she is nothing. What is it she could possibly offer him that he wouldn't scoff at?

  
_Bravery_ , the other part says. Surely he must feel it too.

 

She turns around and he leans into her, his lips grazing over hers, as if he's tied in the struggle against his desire. Finally his arm snakes around her waist and their mouths meet. The kiss is slow and thorough, and their embrace so intimate Rey feels like she's sinking into his mind, and him into hers, but there no memories or images there now: only a sense of completion, and an overwhelming thirst for more.

 

It’s only when the thought strikes her that he has access to her own lust, this impossible, crushing lust that has been swelling within her, that she breaks the kiss and scurries away. Her legs feel like lead, and the rest of her body mocks her for believing this is more than a brief reprieve.

 

#   


B en is stalking around his room again. 

 

Madness.  He can think of a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t have done this –  _any_ of this. He can think of a hundred more why he mustn’t stop, why he must slip out into the darkness of the corridor, go to Rey’s room and – and what then? Try to explain? Woo her with words?  Madness.  None of it will do. 

 

He only wants her.

 

He stands in front of the door, then turns away again, but it’s like the walls of his room are closing in on him. He goes to the door again,  grasps the lock.

 

When he finally opens it, Rey is standing there, her hand slightly raised in the ghost of a movement.  She stands straighter and in spite of the lovely blush tingeing her cheeks, plunges her eyes straight into his. 

  
“ Who are you?”  she demands. 

  
He stays in silence for a long time before answering. Rey wants nothing save the truth. She cannot be bought or tempted into treason. If he tells her, the only risk is to lose her, yet what would be the point in having her on the basis of falsehood? He will not be a liar, nor a thief of her love.

  
“Someone I wish I wasn't,” he finally says. “What you saw is real. The true origin of my bloodline. Murder and deceit and arrogance.”

  
What fills her gaze then is not disgust or fear, but compassion. Emotion clenches deep into his chest.

  
“Who are you, Rey?” he asks, no longer out of curiosity, but out of wonder that such grace could exist.

  
“I don't know,” she replies. “I'll never know”.

  
“I don't care,” he tells her, and takes her hand to lead her inside in his room.

 

Later, when they are entangled in his sheets and she moves to bestride him, her muscles taut and trembling and her skin flushed with the friction of their bodies coming together, again and again, he sees her triumphant again, beautiful like the rising moon, and spends himself inside of her with a ragged cry.

 

They fall against each other and he cradles her in his arms, smoothing her hair and caressing the soft plane of her back until she falls asleep.

 

With her by his side, Ben feels he can accomplish what he must. A new world, one fit for both of them. A place where the Force can flow like water and grow like a tree, free and wild, without the rigor of punishing training or the decorum of vows. The Force doesn’t belong to any one side, for it permeates everything. It’s something he feels he’s always perceived, but didn’t fully comprehend until he met Rey.

 

They will make of Birren a haven for all those who think the same. An oasis in the galaxy. Yes, starting tomorrow.

 

Ben kisses Rey’s forehead and she stirs in her sleep, curling closer to him. There’s so much he wants to tell her. He wonders how long there is until dawn, and if she will mind staying here to watch it.


End file.
